


don't like your tilted stage (the role you made me play)

by carrotstix



Series: against the grain should be a way of life [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dawnguard, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Takes Place During The Final Confrontation With Harkon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrotstix/pseuds/carrotstix
Summary: serana’s eyes glow orange when she speaks, her jaw sharp and her voice even more so. she grips the handle of her blade tight enough that you’re sure the force could snap bone, and even her father seems surprised, or maybe impressed, at the extent of emotion she’s showing.“you’ve destroyed our family,” she spits. “you’ve killed other vampires. all over some prophecy that we barely understand. no more, i’m done with you. you will not touch her.”[or, elewyn and serana finish what they've started.]





	don't like your tilted stage (the role you made me play)

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i did use taylor swift lyrics for the title, sue me.  
> this piece is part of what will likely be a long series with stories from all over the timeline. it's written in second person from the point of elewyn, a dragonborn. while he isn't mentioned in this piece as far as I remember, the series also revolves around elwynak, another dragonborn.  
> this story also takes place before serana and elewyn are in a relationship, and as such, the shipping is quite mild and easy to ignore as friendship.  
> anyway, enjoy!!

“provided for me? are you insane?”

serana’s eyes glow orange when she speaks, her jaw sharp and her voice even more so. she grips the handle of her blade tight enough that you’re sure the force could snap bone, and even her father seems surprised, or maybe impressed, at the extent of emotion she’s showing.

“you’ve destroyed our family,” she spits. “you’ve killed other vampires. all over some prophecy that we barely understand. no more, i’m done with you. you will not touch her.”

your own eyes widen a little at her words, but you’re distracted from thinking anything when harkon speaks.

“so, i see the dragon has fangs,” he replies, his voice eerily smooth. “your voice drips with the venom of your mother’s influence. how alike you’ve become.”

“no,” serana hisses. “because unlike her, i’m not afraid of you. not anymore.”

he laughs, but the scowl of his face is anything but humorous.

“and you,” he adds, ignoring his daughter in favor of turning to you. “i suppose i have you to thank for turning my daughter against me. i knew it was only a matter of time before she returned with hatred in her heart.”

“hatred born of your neglect,” you retort, your own fingers tightening their grip on the hilt of your axe.

“a small price to pay for the betterment of our kind,” he excuses, and you’re unable to stop the next words that fly from your mouth.

“what kind of father sees his daughter’s  _ life _ as a small price, no matter the stakes?”

“and how much is her life worth to you,  _ vampire hunter?  _ what happens when you’ve slain me? is her mother next? is serana herself?”

“i would never hurt serana,” you all but shout. “she’s far too important to me!”

he glowers. “then my daughter is truly lost. she died the moment she accepted a mortal into her life.”

your eyes catch on serana herself, whose steely composure falters for a second, hurt flashing in her eyes before she straightens herself, and it only makes you angrier.

“enough of this!”

your outburst doesn’t seem to shock him in the slightest.

“yes, quite,” he agrees, as if you were having a formal discussion. “i’m growing weary of speaking to you and my traitorous daughter. i’ll give you a single chance to turn the bow over to me. there will not be a second.”

“never!”

“very well then, you leave me no choice. auriel’s bow will be mine!”

with that, he dissipates into bats, and the battle rages into play. skeletons spring up out of nowhere, the gargoyles come to life, and you find yourself dropping your axe at your feet in favor of the bow, trying your damn hardest to follow him as he seems to disappear and reappear around the room. it feels like it goes on forever, with you only managing to land an arrow or two on him at a time before he’s gone and moving somewhere else in the chamber. serana is busied with the creatures going for her, but they come at you, too, and you find yourself drawing back arrows at close range and smashing the bow into their skulls.

eventually, when you’re starting to feel yourself grow tired, he changes tactics, charging straight for you instead. his claws sting where they slash at your face, and you can the heat of the magika he wields as he fires on you. your axe lays on the ground only feet away, unused, but you’re afraid to drop the bow and have harkon pick it up; you don’t want the power in his hands for even a moment. instead, you do your best to hold your own, gripping it in one hand while you conjure fire in the other. he’s starting to wear down but you can feel yourself fading, drained from the length of the fight and pulling the magic up into your hands so that, when he charges you, getting in a good swipe, you go flying back and crashing up against the wall. even with all the armor on, it still hurts like all of oblivion is raining down upon you, even more so when fall several feet down and onto the ground. there are cuts and deep slashing covering any exposed skin, and the force of your collision with floor dents the breastplate of your armor, pushing it up into your chest, knocking all the wind out of you. the bow falls out of your hands and lands under you, trapped. you try to lift yourself up off the ground, but your wrist gives a sickening crunch under your gauntlet, and you only land back in the dust behind the altar’s fountain..

sweet mara, does your whole body hurt.

the pain, of course, is overshadowed by harkon, who looms only feet away, and the hungry grin on his face makes your whole body go ice cold as he gets closer. you can’t even get more than a whine or a croak out of your throat, a prayer to any of the nine divines or a daedric prince, your last words, anything before he-

-falls to his knees, gasping, to reveal serana standing behind him, your axe held tight in her fingers, and he’s still hunched over when she brings it down again, causing him to crumple completely, red fissures splitting his skin as energy of the same color swirls around him.

“no,” he chokes out. “serana... your own father....”

his words fall out as he dissolves, leaving ash and dust on the floor in his place. serana stands there, the battleaxe falling from her grip and slamming to the floor.

“well, that’s over,” she murmurs.

“serana,” you rasp, but when open your mouth to try and say something of any comfort, you can’t seem to come up with words. when you speak, however, it catches her attention, and she abandons staring at the spot where harkon had stood to crouch by your side, leaning down to inspect the bleeding cuts on your face. her eyes seem to flicker when she gets close, maybe due to the smell of the blood, but there’s such clear concern etched into her face, it’s like it was carved there.

(you wish you had worn a helmet.)

“are you okay?” she whispers, her voice feather-soft. you laugh, but it sounds more like a exhale than anything.

“are you?” you echo, and the smile she gives you is a bittersweet.

“that sounds like a no from both of us, then.”

you wince, partly due to the pain bubbling in your side but mostly on her behalf. “serana, i’m so sorry,” you start. “that’s not how… i mean, it shouldn’t have-”

“are you… apologizing to me right now? for what possible reason?”

“i should’ve been able to do it,” you explain. “i mean- he was still your father, you shouldn’t have had to.”

“that’s... that’s not your fault,” she assures you. “none of this, none of what just happened, is your fault.”

you fall silent, choosing instead to just stare up at her face. even like this, weariness painted across her cheeks her clothes torn, she’s still so beautiful.

however, the quiet is broken when isran comes through the door, scanning the state of the room before he sees the two of you. he makes his way across the floor and beside serana in what feels like seconds.

“so, the beast is destroyed,” he says, straightforward as ever. you cringe, but serana’s face stays unchanged. “it’s over. he’s dead, and the prophecy dies with him.”

as if just now realizing that serana was in the room, he stops, hesitates. “i... i suppose this is difficult for you.”

“i think my father really died a long time ago,” she responds, glancing over to the ashes that remained of harkon rather than looking over to isran. “this was just… the end of something else. i did what needed to be done, nothing more.”

“i think perhaps… i think you did more than that,” he muses. “you have my thanks.”

without another word, he takes a step back and turns, leaving the room in silence. you stare at the door until it closes, the sound echoing back to you. serana turns back to you, and you hold her gaze for a moment before smiling, as best you can with the way your head is starting to ache.

“help me up and we can get out of here?”

“with pleasure.”

and even if it doesn’t reach her eyes, the curl of her lips is genuine.

**Author's Note:**

> dear bethesda,  
> while i guess i understand some of the reasoning behind why you won't let me marry serana in-game, it doesn't make me feel much better.
> 
> in all seriousness, i hope you enjoyed the piece, and stayed tuned for more elewyn, more serana, and elwyank, who you haven't met but is definitely worth sticking around for.


End file.
